He didn't want to move. He was too comfortable, too warm and content to move. It would have been perfect to lay there forever.

Could be better…if he was awake…

Yes, but it was too early for Alfred to be up. It was only about nine in the morning, after all, so the blue-eyed man would be asleep for around four more hours. Which meant that Arthur had four more hours to dedicate to spending as much time with Alfred as possible.

First, however, there was two things the Angel wanted to take care of.

Moving carefully, he disentangled himself from Alfred's embrace and slipped out of bed. On his tiptoes and without bothering to get clean clothes, the Angel left the bedroom and went straight to the pile of towels sitting by the washing machine. This was going to be tricky. Even though he'd seen Alfred do this more than once since he'd first arrived at the human's apartment, he had never started the machine on his own. An investigation found instructions on the inside of the lid, which he read through twice before actually following them.

First, distribute the load evenly in the machine—towels, check. Second, measure out the proper amount of detergent. That took him a while to figure out. How was he supposed to know how much…detergent…to put in? He didn't even know what detergent was. He did, however, remember seeing Alfred take a large jug of some blue liquid out of the cupboard, so he found that jug and discovered that the lid was also used as a measuring cup.

"How do humans come up with these things?" It was actually a little brilliant, and he carefully poured the blue liquid into the cup to the "Medium Load" line.

The third step was to pour the detergent on top of the load, which was definitely the easiest part. He was supposed to close the lid after that, but he made sure to look over the last few steps about the machine settings before he did that. Then it was just a matter of twisting the large knobs and pushing a button; with a shudder, the machine came to life, and Arthur smiled in pride that he'd managed to do it by himself without destroying anything. That was the last thing he wanted, was to destroy one of Alfred's things.

Satisfied with his success, he wandered into the kitchen for some breakfast, though he wasn't hungry enough to actually cook something for himself. Unfortunately, the winter season meant there was no fresh fruit in the fridge, so he ended up making toast with butter. The toaster, at least, was something that Alfred had taught him how to use, though it still made him jump a little when the bread suddenly sprang up.

So he sat at the table and munched on his toast, sensitive ears picking up each and every sound in this seemingly silent winter-locked apartment. He could hear kids playing outside, probably having a snowball fight—the sounds of their laughter was enough to bring a smile to his lips. Far more sounds came from within the apartment, like the constant hum of the refrigerator. Soft ticks came from the clock on the living room wall. Of course, he could also hear the washing machine with its load of towels swishing in soapy water. His own chewing and the crunch of his toast were definitely the loudest sounds, but his attention was drawn to something else.

In the silence, Arthur only had to tilt his head and concentrate in order to hear Alfred breathing in the bedroom. They were slow, deep breaths, steady and strong. It was easy to imagine how the American's chest rose and fell, and though he couldn't quite hear Alfred's heartbeat, he knew the ba-bump would be there if he were to press his ear to the larger man's chest. That was something he could always count on.

Once his toast was gone, the Angel cleaned up after himself just the way he'd been doing ever since he figured out the sink and where the dishes were supposed to go. This process felt tedious after living in heaven and using magic for so long, but it reminded him of housekeeping and chores from before his time as an Angel. Not having magic was kind of…nice.

His few dishes only took a couple minutes to wash and put away, and when he left the kitchen, it was just as clean as when he'd first entered it that day. Content with his breakfast and still proud of his success of washing the towels, Arthur moved to stand in the doorway of the bedroom. Alfred's sleeping form was a visible lump on the bed, wrapped in the blankets. It seemed he'd rolled over since Arthur got up, so his back was to the door. One shoulder was uncovered, a piece of flawless sun-kissed skin that Arthur found to be rather inviting.

The Angel moved silently, crossing the room and climbing onto the bed. He sat beside the slumbering American, green eyes locked on that shoulder. Slowly, slowly, he leaned closer and placed a feather-light kiss on the warm flesh, and his eyes fell closed as he pulled away again.

If only he could do that every morning for the rest of eternity.

A longing sigh escaped him and he lay down, slipping under the blankets before wrapping his arms around Alfred's middle and burying his face in the American's back. He could feel the taller man breathing, felt his heartbeat vibrate through his entire frame. This, this right here, was as close to perfect as Arthur thought he could get.

"Love you, Alfie," he mumbled into the blankets, arm's tightening just a little. "Always."

When Alfred woke, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't alone in his bed. He'd gotten used to the routine of coming home to a sleeping Arthur, going to bed, and waking up to a brunch prepared by the Angel. It was nice to not have to cook all the time, though if he had to choose, he'd take waking up next to the petite man over food any day.

As carefully as he could, he turned in the Angel's arms until he was face-to-face with him. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with the world. Lifting a hand, he brushed golden bangs away from a pale face and kissed the petite man's forehead. A breath against his neck made him pull away to find green eyes looking up at him.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling.

"Morning," the Angel replied softly. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine. You?" Still with his smile in place, he slipped his arms around the smaller male and held him close, staring into his eyes.

A blush colored the Angel's cheeks to feel himself being pressed up against Alfred. "Well enough."

They were quiet as they looked at each other, examining every detail of the others' face.

He'd never noticed before that there were little marks on the bridge of Alfred's nose from where his glasses sat. They were small, barely noticeable, but he wanted to touch them and see if he could rub them away. He wanted to memorize the different shades of blue in the American's eyes, run his hand through the ash blond hair and feel it slide between his fingers, thick and soft. Alfred's lips beckoned for a kiss, promised to be gentle and loving and to sweetly whisper things that no one else should ever hear.

If only that was true.

Had Arthur's lips always been that shade of pale pink? It was almost the exact same color as the blush that was still visible, perfect against the creamy color of his skin. God, he was flawless. Even the scars that Alfred knew the Angel bore were beautiful. Nothing could take away from how perfect he was in Alfred's eyes. He was so small, so delicate and deceptively slender. That only made how strong he was that much better, though. As fragile as Arthur appeared to be, Alfred saw strength in the set of his jaw, the way he carried himself, and in those eyes that put emeralds to shame. Yes, Arthur was beautiful, but he was so much more than that. He was also fiercely protective, loyal, forgiving and loving and funny, smart—no, brilliant—and…everything. He was everything.

Sap, Alfred accused himself, but there was no bite to it. Yes, he was a sap, but he was also in love with this perfect Angel who glowed even in the darkness of the bedroom. The glow wasn't usually very noticeable; it was faint and didn't stand out. At this moment, though, lying so close to him in the gloom, his glow seemed stronger than ever.

"You're beautiful," the American breathed as he placed a hand on Arthur's face and stroked one pale cheek with his thumb. Arthur's blush darkened at the word and Al could feel the heat of it against his hand, which only made him smile fondly.

"Am not," came the mumbled reply as Arthur lowered his gaze shyly, and Alfred chuckled before kissing the Angel's nose.

"You are."

The Angel shook his head, face growing even warmer as he attempted to hide the blush by pulling the blankets up to cover his head. Laughing, Alfred allowed the smaller man to do so only because it gave him the opportunity to wrap Arthur up and hug him tightly.

"You're beautiful and nothing will ever convince me that you're not," he whispered, putting his mouth by where he knew Arthur's ear was.

"Sh-shut up, wanker." The response was mumbled but he knew Arthur was smiling as he said it, because despite all his protests, he knew the Angel enjoyed the compliment.

"Make me." His tone was playful as he squeezed the man in his arms, and he chuckled when Arthur sputtered an incoherent response. "What was that?"

"You're crushing my wings!"

Immediately, Alfred let go of the smaller man and pulled the blankets away from him, fearful that he'd hurt the Angel. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" Before he could take a breath to ask another question, Arthur lunged at him and pinned him back on the bed.

Ohhhhhh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

It was kind of impressive how quickly his mind went to the gutter, though it wasn't surprising considering that Arthur was now holding his wrists down by his head while straddling his waist. And, as always, he was wearing those damned boxers that barely managed to cling to his hips tight enough not to fall down. They were patterned as the American flag, which made Al want to laugh because the Angel had been British during his life and so the boxers were sort of ironic. Alfred kind of liked it, though.

"You're a bit gullible, aren't you." The Angel was grinning, his hair mussed from having the blanket over his head. It was a struggle not to smirk and say something sexual or teasing, especially considering his current…position.

Hiding his sudden almost-aroused state, Alfred rolled his eyes. "Well excuse me for trusting an Angel. Sort of figured you guys had to be honest or something like that."

Arthur chuckled and shifted a little, seeming unaware of what that slight friction did to the American beneath him. "Honesty isn't exactly in the job description. It's not a requirement, either."

Don't do that! Don't move! Ah…shit…how do I…? What am I supposed to do!?

This was not good. This was the opposite of good. If Arthur moved again then Al wasn't going to be able to help it and then Arthur would get pissed. That wouldn't end well for anyone.

"Then what exactly do Angels do? If you're not pure, honest beings or whatever."

Releasing the American's wrists, Arthur crossed his arms over Alfred's chest and rested his chin on them so that he was essentially lying on top of him while still straddling his hips. It was a conflict for Alfred; he couldn't decide if he liked this situation or not, though he knew it probably wasn't a good one.

"I shouldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

Green eyes rolled. "Because humans aren't supposed to know, you git."

"C'mon, Artie, who am I gonna tell?" He put on the best puppy eyes he could manage, looking up at the Angel pleadingly.

For a moment, Arthur stared back at him musingly. "We save you."

"Me?"

"Humans. We save you. Children, mostly, though we save adults, too. But adults are tricky, so there's a special group of Angels that are assigned to adults. I only work with children."

"Oh." The temptation to shift and get more comfortable was strong but he resisted with everything he had, distracting himself by lacing his hands behind his head and using them as a pillow. "So that's why you got struck by lightning. You were here to save some kid and didn't make it back to heaven."

A sadness came over him and Arthur turned his face away, his cheek resting on his arms. "Yeah."

In an attempt to comfort the petite blond, Alfred took one hand from under his head and ran it through the blond's hair. "I'm glad I met you, Artie. Even though you got struck by lightning, and then Ivan hurt you, and you miss your friends and your home, I'm glad I'm the one who found you in that alleyway."

The smallest of smiles made an appearance as Arthur looked back at Alfred. "Me, too." He hesitated for a moment, green eyes clouded by a swirling mixture of emotions, before he slowly started to lean closer. And closer.

Is he gonna kiss me? No, no way. He doesn't remember. Definitely not gonna kiss me. There's no way he's—

Blue eyes went wide as Arthur's fingers curled against his chest and soft lips pressed against his own. The Angel's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed pink. When Alfred didn't move or return the kiss, Arthur opened his eyes slightly and pulled away.

"Please, Alfred," he whispered, sounding as if he might shatter at any moment.

There was no way.

Alfred hesitated. He blinked several times, hardly daring to believe that the Angel was serious. "You…you mean…?"

Nodding, Arthur pressed even closer to the taller blond and closed his eyes. This time, Alfred didn't hesitate. His hand stilled on the back of the Angel's head and he used it to pull Arthur closer, kissing him softly. Instantly, Arthur's hands left where they were curled against his chest and slid up until his arms were wrapped around the American's neck so he could pull himself even closer to him. Alfred's arms went around the Angel's waist, forcing him to move his hips to create friction; a soft whine escaped the petite blond.

"A-Alfie…"

"Shut up." Rolling, Alfred pinned the smaller man beneath him and kissed him more fully, though he stayed gentle. Hands tangled in his hair and a knee was hooked over his hip as Arthur tried to pull him closer, tried to get more contact, and Alfred readily obliged. His hand slid up the Angel's side, making the smaller man arch and gasp so that Al could take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste he'd been craving for days was finally his again and he let Arthur's name out on a sigh, pressing his forehead to the Angel's and staring deep into his eyes. Arthur's face was a deep red color and he was panting lightly, looking up at Alfred through the bangs that had fallen over his eyes.

"God…you really are beautiful…"

The Angel's blush darkened even further and he looked down shyly until Al tilted his chin up and kissed him softly.

"And you're adorable when you're embarrassed."

"Git," Arthur muttered, though he made no move to pull away or put space between himself and Alfred.

Chuckling, Alfred kissed him again, his hand sliding from the smaller man's chin to cup his cheek as Arthur willingly granted entrance to his mouth. They kissed for several minutes, holding each other close, until they both had to break away in order to breathe. Once again, Alfred found himself staring into those eyes as if nothing else existed anymore.

"Artie…"

"Yes?"

"I don't understand. I'm not complaining, but…why…?"

Uncomfortable now, Arthur hid his face in the taller man's shoulder. "Because I love you."

Alfred couldn't help but smile. After thinking for days that the Angel had no recognition of his feelings, Arthur had, fully awake and sober, admitted to loving him.

"I love you, too."

He smiled and hugged the Angel, being careful of his wings as Arthur snuggled against his chest. This was bliss, this was all he was ever going to need, was Arthur being open and honest with him, and being close to the Angel without worrying about giving himself away. No more worrying about hiding how attracted he was to him, or pretending that he was okay with the thought of Arthur leaving and going back to heaven. None of that mattered anymore because now he knew for absolutely certain that Arthur loved him.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry."

A chuckle escaped him and Al ran a hand up the Angel's back, making him shift a little closer. "We have to get out of bed if we're gonna eat."

The Angel gave a disgruntled moan and pulled the blankets over his head once more; Alfred laughed and sat up.

"All right, you stay here and be lazy. I'll make brunch them come get you, 'kay?"

Without uncovering his head, Arthur nodded his agreement to the proposition and Alfred leaned down to kiss the cloth-covered Angel's face before he got off the bed. He whistled as he walked into the kitchen and began pulling out everything he'd need to make a meal for the two of them.

The two of them. Perfect.